Carrying On
by Daalny
Summary: A short AU during season 2.


Dr. Clarkson was in a foul mood, his hospital was overflowing with wounded men. The Army had promised more nursing support but as of yet it hadn't arrived. Currently his most competent nurse was missing. His boots rang heavily against the hospital floor before he flung open the heavy wood door and stomped out into the garden. He could see her on the stone bench, her posture was perfect rivaling Whistler's Mother. He strode determinedly to her to verbally gain his pound of flesh. When he saw her he stopped she was breathing shallowly.

He knelt beside her, his knee sinking into the soft grass."What's happened? Did one of the patients say something to you?"

She laughed nervously, "No, I received this."

He saw the telegram with the emblem of the Royal Army on it. Suddenly he felt as though he had been kicked in the gut, his hands reached for the paper and she surrendered it to him. He began to read. The bold typeface of the telegram seemed to infuse him with cold.

**We regret to inform you that your son Martin Caughley died honourably in battle.**

He read it again to be sure, the name was wrong, this telegram was meant for another Mother.

She stood, "I should get back to work."

He reached for her but she had already moved out of reach. Carefully folding the telegram he put it into his pocket. Back in the ward Isobel was moving from bed to bed, making notes on charts as she went. She barked at another nurse for a mistake and Richard knew that she must be mightily unsettled.

_Who wouldn't be?_ his mind screamed. She just thought her son had been killed. He kept an eye on her throughout the day. She was short with the nurses but Clarkson let that go, some of them needed a telling off. Sometimes Isobel's warm understanding was not what was needed. When lunch time approached she retreated to his office which was the norm for them. After authorizing more painkillers for a patient he went to the office and shut the door locking it behind him.

"Talk to me." He commanded.

She was caressing her own arms, trying to soothe herself. He came behind her and replaced her own hands with his. She stiffened momentarily but quickly relaxed under his touch.

"I feel wretched." She muttered.

Richard scoffed,"I think you have the right, I can't imagine what you thought when you saw the telegram."

She shook her head almost violently, "No, that wasn't it. When I tell you, you'll hate me."

His hands gripped her biceps and turned her to face him, "Talk to me." He commanded again this time his tone soft.

"I read the telegram and thought, 'Matthew is dead, it's done.' Then I read the name again and realized Matthew is alive. I didn't feel better in fact I felt worse. I have to wait you see. Worry and doubt marring everyday. Sometimes I almost wish for a telegram that way he could come home. Wounded or in a box he would be home and I wouldn't have put up with this carrying on for God knows how long." Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks and he pulled her to him. She crushed her face into his uniform shirt and tie.

Her whole body shook as she sobbed and he let her. He felt no hate for her at her words, in fact it made sense. He too had asked himself when was it going to be enough? When would this war end? How many more sons were going to be taken? How many more Mother's were going to be hollowed out to shells of flesh?

Eventually she quieted and went to pull away. Richard swept aside his white coat to reach into the pocket of his uniform trousers to retrieve a handkerchief. Tenderly he wiped her face. As he did so the light from the window caught her face illuminating it. She was still a beautiful woman. Giving into his desires he leaned in and kissed her. Isobel emitted a small hum when his lips touched hers, it was brief, chaste and filled with promise.

Isobel pulled back so she could see Richard, in his blue eyes she saw him relinquish everything to her. That was when she knew that Richard was hers and with that knowledge she felt the constant dread and worry she carried subside.

She smiled at him letting him know that she was his as well. He leaned forward again but this time to kiss her cheek. The contact seemed more intimate than their previous kiss. They then retrieved their mid-morning meal and ate in silence. Isobel knew that Richard's love wasn't a magical panacea to banish all the blight threatening to consume her. Nonetheless, she felt two things she hadn't in a while-Hope and desire.

At the end of the day Isobel stopped him, "Do you have that telegram? Do you know what we should do with it?"

Even with everything that had happened she was still thinking of others. "Yes, I know what to do."

He helped her into her coat and watched from the doorway as she retreated from the hospital towards Crawley house. It would be another hour before he too could leave if the patient load allowed it. Patting his pocket he felt the telegram and went to his office to rectify the problem.

With the arrival of the night shift Clarkson removed his white coat and buttoned up his uniform tunic. As he walked towards his cottage people in the village tugged on their caps in a sign of respect. Opening the door to his cottage he stowed his bag before hanging up his uniform tunic. He tugged down his braces and rolled his shoulders. The cottage held a chill so he squatted down beside the fireplace and began making a fire. Soon flames flickered in the hearth providing light, heat and comfort. Yanking on his tie he loosened the knot and circled his neck. The fire popped and he grabbed a poker to shift the burning wood. A soft knock was heard and his lips crept up into a smile for he knew who it was.

As he opened the door he was not disappointed. He held out his hand and led her inside. Tonight would be a night for words not flesh. They sat beside the fire sipping brandy and talking about any and all things that came into their minds. He listened when she spoke of the increasing hostility she was facing at Downton Abbey. How the scheduling was being changed, the feeling of conspiracy. Richard knew all too well what was going on. This was chess match he had been playing for years. He had graduated from pawn to knight. He could command his own troops but was still under control of a king. Isobel had never had had to play this game, she would have to learn, he would help her. Nearing ten, he put on his jacket before escorting her home.

The next day saw Dr. Clarkson at the Abbey. Lord Lt. Colonel Crawley had summoned him while they spoke Lady Cora joined them to talk about the convalescent home. Richard listened to Cora and thought he could actually see the daggers flying around her. What she was asking for seemed petty. He politely told her so, choosing his words carefully and always putting his emphasis on the patients. The tightening of her face let him know she had received his message. The whole incident with Thomas Barrow sprang to mind, he would not be manipulated again.

Isobel was spending more and more time at Clarkson's cottage. One morning Mr. Molesley came with a delivery of food from Mrs. Bird. Dr. Clarkson was on a break and led the butler to the office so he could place the food down. "Hope she likes it, haven't seen much of her." The lanky man delivered.

"Mrs. Crawley has been working late with me, what with the hospital and the convalescent home there is a lot to do." He said offhand.

Joseph Molesley was not an idiot, while things of the idiotic seemed to surround him, he knew an order to drop a conversation when he heard one. He also remembered that the doctor had spared him from conscription with the order to help the war effort in other ways. If the doctor and Mrs. Crawley _were_ lovers he would keep the secret. In the coming days he and Mrs. Bird hatched a plan to feed hungry soldiers.

So far Richard and Isobel hadn't become lovers, they had shared a bed, merely holding one another until the shades of night lifted. There was a routine they followed. Richard would open up the cottage light a fire and wait for her. Tonight was no different, he hung up his uniform tunic and set about the hearth. Her knock was bold and his stomach seemed to flip at the noise. Opening the door revealed her and once again he offered his hand. She took it and was led inside, instead of releasing her grip she increased it and pulled him towards her. Their mouths met and both moaned at the contact. Tonight they would reveal themselves to one another. In their conversations they already knew the mind, it was time to know the body. Clothes were carefully removed and folded, hers placed with reverence on the seat of a chair he kept in his bedroom. Only their breathing was heard accented by the occasional pop from the fireplace. Kisses were traded and Richard found himself pulling the pins from hair, then pulling it from it's knot. Her hands had come to rest on the small of his back tracing nonsense patterns on the smooth skin she found there. They had no clue for how long they stood their learning the shape of one another's mouth. A different craving then took over and with a push Isobel was sprawled out on his bed. The sight made him groan and he moved quickly to cover her body.

Pleasures of the flesh long denied to both of them were reigniting. Isobel felt intense heat wherever his hands touched her flesh. A tension was building within her and she moaned in frustration.

Richard was panting from his bodies effort and knew what she needed, what they both needed. "It's only me here, I want to hear you. Let it out." Was his whisper.

At his words she knew how to uncoil the knot deep within her. As he moved within her, touching her deeply she turned her head to the side and emitted a yell.

* * *

A loud banging had Richard waking, he snagged a dressing gown and padded towards the door. On his doorstep was Joseph Molesley with a telegram in his hand. Richard nodded solemnly and took it from his grasp. The butler turned and left without a word. Returning to the bedroom he gently shook Isobel on her bare shoulder, "Love, wake up."

* * *

Carson was pulled from his slumber by the sound of the bell. It was from the servants entrance, however, he had locked up the servants quarters. Who had gotten out?

When he opened the door he saw Dr. Clarkson in a pair of pajamas with his Army tunic thrown over it. Beside him was Mrs. Crawley what looked like night clothes peeked out from under a dressing gown that was clearly not hers. Carson could see that something was very wrong, he went to the servants quarters and woke up Mrs. Hughes. She in turn woke up O'Brien, soon all the servants were in the hall either wrapped in blankets or clad in dressing gowns. A lamp was lit and O'Brien went to wake up Lady Cora.

Soon the house lights were burning, Isobel handed over the telegram to Lord Grantham. He read the contents then told his wife and daughters the news-Matthew had been injured. The servants were outside the door and Lord Grantham beckoned them inside to tell them. No one seemed to notice that Dr. Clarkson was Isobel's escort. Or that she was wearing his dressing gown or if they got close enough that both carried the scent of the other.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this brief little one shot.**


End file.
